I can't think of a title
by Miss Six
Summary: NO FEEDBACK, NO UPDATE: ON HOLD - AU Sandy/Maxwell Living happily together. Sandy loves the hockey team she works for. Then she's framed and arrested! Right when Maxwell, proposed. Rated for safety. -Writing entirely on mobile
1. I'm kind of a big deal

"No no no! Don't shake it!"

"Too late! Ha ha! Now check this shit out!"

"Well don't let it-fuuuuck."

Too late. Stan popped the cork off the champagne in an explosive fashion. He raised the bottle in the air to spray it over everyone's head, using his thumb to spray it more effectively. The girls screamed and tried to cover themselves while some of the guys cheered or, in Oxnard's case, even tried to drink it. Maxwell laughed while Sandy tried to hide her face and her hair in his jacket, out of the champagne stream. This party was all for him. Over on the table where Stan had retrieved the champagne, his Computer and I.T degree sat in an attractive frame next to a cake decorated to match the certificate. It only made him worth more. He had been working for Kaiba Corp since he earned his associates, designing holograms and software for the Battle Monsters Franchise. With every degree he acquired, his value and rank in the company increased.

They were at their own little after party at a hotel ballroom. Maybe not little. A lot of family and friends had shown up, as well as co-workers of Maxwell's, and even some of the upper crust Sandy worked with.

"Ohmigosh! Your Nick Barto!" Pashmina said to a big guy with black hair and a hockey jersey. "Oh my, had I known you would have been here, I would have done something with my hair!" Sheblushed furiously, and Nick laughed. It was all cute to him.

"Always nice to meet a fan." He shook Pashmina's hand and she giggled. Nick, like the rest of his team, were all big guys with a big build and muscles, but they had personalities like harmless puppy dogs.

Sandy was the assistant coach for his ice hockey team, the Air Guitar, and had been for about five years. Some of the players who knew Maxwell had shown up at the party.

Sandy released Maxwell and started to comb through her hair, as if that would get any of the wasted champagne out.

"I'm gonna kill Stan." Sandy said, frowning. "I'm all sticky." She singled out a thick lock of hair and combed through it furiously.

Maxwell grinned slyly. "You say that like its a bad thing." Sandy rolled her eyes and gave him a light punch in the shoulder.

"Your turning into quite the dog." Sandy said, the smile on her face daring him. Maxwell smiled.

"Now I'm done with school, I can have a sense of humor again. So come here." He grabbed her waist and pulled her into a gentle kiss. Sandy blushed. He only behaved like this when he was happy, or his mind was...elsewhere. She decided it was the second one. They parted and smiled.

"I'll give you your present once we get home." Sandy told him in a heated voice with her eyes lowered. Maxwell's eyes and grin got wide.

"I'm gonna pull the fire alarm! Back in a sec." He turned to leave, but Sandy grabbed the back of his collar.

"No. Naughty."

Stan spun them some music and they partied into the night. The party wound down as it got late. The Air Guitar players had to leave. Like Sandy, they got up at around 6 am every morning for practice and a meeting.

Sandy and Maxwell didn't get to their apartment until after midnight. Sandy took a quick shower and Maxwell disappeared into their office. When she entered the office, running her fingers through her hair and clutching a black towel close, Maxwell was hanging his final degree in their office with the others. Though they were wealthy, the 2 bedroom apartment was all they needed. They shared an office in the larger bedroom, the nature of their jobs requiring some occasional work from home, and they slept in the small one. When they first moved in, Sandy insisted they use the small one because it looked "cozy" and Maxwell thought of at least ten other synonyms for cozy.

"You know..." Maxwell started "I've been thinking..."

"No." Sandy cut him off. "You have enough degrees. You don't need anymore. Seriously." She pointed to one. "Pharmaceuticals, Economics, Law and Drama? You've done everything." She picked up a hairbrush and sat on the leather couch. "At least their all paid for."

"No..." Maxwell said, smiling coyly. "I was thinking about the present you mentioned back at the hotel." He thought of something that could be taken wrong and smiled. "And I haven't done _eeeeeeverything_." Sandy had no idea what he was thinking of, but it probably involved sex. Maxwell had long thought it for some time now, and decided now was about a good time in life to buy a house and get married. With their income, he could retire early (Sandy wouldn't want to) and live their comfortable life together. He had somewhat of a plan to ask Sandy the ever important question, and those plans involved him being at work early tomorrow and typing the final draft of that letter he had written. He hadn't gotten all the details down though. The person for whom the letter was intended...well, he hoped he would have an idea.

"Yeah. You haven't done pro wrestling. And I don't think you should." Sandy said, rolling her eyes. That gave Maxwell an idea. He smiled and began to crack his knuckles. Sandy looked at him confused. "What are you doing?"

"This!" Maxwell tackled her on the couch and pinned her beneath him. Sandy giggled loudly as she was pushed back into the couch, her arms flying above her head and releasing her grip on the towel.

"You know I can still kick your ass." She said, smiling up at him. "I could probably beat it from here if I hadn't have dropped the brush."

"Yeah." Maxwell said, sweat dropping. "Don't do that. I like living." Sandy giggled a little as he said that. Maxwell leaned in to give her a long, gentle kiss. They smiled when they broke apart.

"You can have your present in the bedroom." Sandy said with a smiling serious face.

* * *

After Sandy grabbed the alarm clock and threw it with incredible strength for being in a sleepy state, Maxwell had to wake up real quick and grab it before she broke yet another one. She grabbed a hold of it with one hand and tossed it as hard as she could away from the bed, without even opening her eyes or sitting up. If they kept it on his side of the bed, he hit the snooze button, and if they kept it across the room, Sandy would get back in bed after "beatsticking" it.

Sandy and Maxwell both wake up early for work. The sweetest thing in the world was how Maxwell would sneak outside and start her car so it would be warm for her when she was ready to leave. It made her drive to the arena that day very pleasant. She arrived with the usual 2 dozen donuts and box of coffee balanced on her arm in a sharp pants and blazer suit with a white shirt and a pinstripe tie. Her chin length orange hair was usually tied back, but trendy. Sandy tried her best to look professional, yet sexy, so she wouldn't have to worry about how she looked when approached by a journalist or a reporter. She enters the locker room early as usual and pulls her palm pilot cell phone from her pocket with her free hand.

**Todays agenda:**  
Practice (Shoot into goal for with and without goalie)  
Discuss this years playoff plan (draft, new plays, etc)  
Hire new mascot  
Send equipment to repairs

She set the breakfast and her briefcase on the desk in the coaches office and sat on a bench to lace up her skates. She was early enough to play around on the ice before the players arrived. And she loved it.

Time passed, players and arena staff arrived. Sandy stood on the ice near the rink exit next to her boss, Coach Ryan Stevens, but everyone's nickname for him was Spike. How he had gotten this nickname was a mystery to Sandy. If you asked him about it, he would start laughing and It'd end with him rolling on the floor saying something about a cowboy hat. No one wanted to investigate it.

"We start the players on practicing shots on the goalie to warm him up, then maybe a little skirmish to get 'em active." Sandy told Spike. He nods as she speaks. "Looks like 2 player contracts will expire at the end of the season, I've put the details on the yellow paper. Uhhh...your wife called, she told me you'd know what it was about if I winked twice." Sandy rolled her eyes. "Also, here's the mail and notices that require your attention and-"

"HEY!" Spike yelled into the arena. "Watch that high sticking! Sorry, go on."

"The owners have decided were doing a fund raiser game this year for some charity. The information's on this blue paper here. They didn't do a good job on the arrangements though." Sandy said, pointing to a paragraph on the blue sheet.

"Oh." Spike said, seeing what she was indicating. "Were playing the Hairy Clams back to back?"

"That's what she said!" Someone on the ice shouted.

"Shut up Cheesefries! And get shooting!" Sandy yelled, pointing at the goal. 'Cheesefries' was the nickname for a player called Chris Deason. He wore the '50' jersey and rolled his eyes at his coaches before resuming practice. All the players had unique nicknames, or better, codenames. It was a measure to protect from the other team understanding their plays.

As Sandy took to the ice, in her sharp business suit to coach the players shooting, Spike sat down in the player box with the notices and schedule. Nothing unusual. Resumes from high school kids wanting work experience. Well, they did need a new sucker to wear the mascot suit this season. He set them into a pile for Sandy to review later. There were some forms from the teams insurance company. He sighed and scooted those off the table into a trashcan. Magazine, cell phone bill, another insurance document...

He had started to open the cell phone bill when an employee of the arena entered the box.

"Excuse me sir. A parcel from Kaiba Corp arrived for you." The employee said, holding out a yellow envelope. "The gentleman who delivered it said it required immediate attention."

"Oh, thanks." Spike took it lazily and set it on the top of the pile and the employee left.

Spike heaved a heavy sigh and opened the envelope. Immediate attention? Such fuss over an envelope that contained only a single piece of paper and a business card. He lazily waved it open and began to read, and was pleased to see it wasn't a sales letter.

_Mr Stevens-_

_Thank you for your attention to my letter. It's Maxwell, I'm dating Sandy, and I need a favor that needs to remain secret. My telephone number is on the card._

_-Maxwell_

Spike looked on the ice to see Sandy, as usual, verbally abusing the players. Nothing unusual about that. Surely he wouldn't notice him slip the letter and card into his pocket, sneak into his office, lock himself in and draw the shades. He knew Maxwell, but he didn't know what he would want to ask. After he locked the door, he pulled the card out of his pocket, leaned back in his chair, and dialed the number. He threw his legs on the desk and the phone was picked up.

"This is Maxwell." The person on the other end simply replied. Spike got the impression that the speaker was occupied.

"Hey, it's Spike. I got word you needed a favor."

* * *


	2. Kiss my glass

Sandy had a routine for game day. Wake up at 6, be at the stadium at 7, skates, bluetooth, and walkie talkie on by 7:15. Forward the phones to the player box phone at 7:25, and a few minutes after 8 am, Nick Barto and a few others were on the ice.  
Spike strolls in at 9:30 in his sharp pants suit carrying a pad file and coffee cup, and Sandy met him in the hallway outside the locker room.  
Sandy gave a small wave and smiled. "Morning sir!"  
"Fuck!" Spike said through gritted teeth. "I HATE being called sir."  
"I know." Said Sandy "but it'll give you the aggressive attitude we need for a good first period." Spike chuckled a bit.  
"You can do better, I'm sure." He said. Sandy smiled widely.  
"Yes I can, actually." Sandy looked at her palm pilot. "The escort for the mascot called me, I think his name is Travis or something, wanting to use a sick day, but he sounded just fine." Sandy said. She looked very bored with all of it.  
"Oh." Spike said. Then he remembered, thinking back to his conversation with Maxwell. "Oh!"

_"So uhhh, you needed a favor Maxwell?" Spike said into the phone. "Anything to help you out. I owe you loads for the help...that day with Nick and all."  
"Its no problem." Maxwell said. "He's still alright, I hope. I can't legally write a prescription, but I give you the number of someone who can, if he starts to get worried."  
"He's doing well. I mean, it could have been worse. Shame he has these medical issues as young and active as he is." Spike said. "Had you not been there, he could have gone into cardiac arrest. Anyway, what's the favor?"  
"I trust this secret with you." Maxwell said. His tone was deep and quiet, and he just muddled through it. "Well...I need to get on the ice so I can, ...well, propose to Sandy. At a time when the cameras are still running" Maxwell said. It was obviously awkward for him. Spikes eyes got really big.  
"And since she's an employee for the Air Guitar, you can't do it the cliche way. You wanna surprise her, right?"  
"Yup, that's right." Maxwell said. Spike could hear him smiling as he leaned back in his chair and threw his legs, blades and all, onto the desk top.  
"I can definitely get you on the ice." He said. "How to keep it a surprise.....hmm..."  
Both men were silent. Then...  
"I got it." Spike said. "But your not going to like it. You get use of your theater degree though, right?"  
"Something theatrical? For a hockey game... what kind of theatrical option are......oh..." Maxwell got it. "Your right, I don't like it, but its good. Definitely original."_

"Yeah." Spike said, trying to act cool. The reality was, he told the escort to call sick that day and had him working with the resurfacing crew today. "Yeah, he called me too. Probably just getting some ice chills. I'm sure he'll be okay. Anyway, I'd like you to escort him, if you would."  
"Sure." Sandy said, tapping the note in her palm pilot with the stylus. "Like, nothing I haven't done before. Also, I went ahead and hired a guy for the mascot yesterday, but he hasn't shown up yet, so I'm gonna give him a call"  
"No, no don't worry about that." Spike said. He thought up a few quick lies. "I don't know how he got my cell number, but he'll be here. He had to be at the uhhh..hospital...this morning. Maybe he took the "break your neck" bit seriously. But he said he would be here." Good, she bought it.  
Sandy rolled her eyes. "Idiot. At least he's not on contract yet. Anyway, are you good and pissed off yet?" Spike thought about it for a second.

"Can't say that I am, no." He said.

"Grr! You douchebag!" Sandy exploded, knocking his legal pad to the floor. "I work real hard to piss you off and your being damn polite about it!"

"Atta girl." Spike said. "Now clean this shit up."

"Fuck you, you clean it up." Sandy said, walking the opposite direction toward the ice. Spike rolled his eyes and picked up his legal pad, sufficiently pissed off.

* * *

After hours of sound checks, light checks, it was 4 PM, players were practicing, playlists and light plans were being rehearsed, referees were skating absentmindedly, and Spike, in his pissed off state, was "coaching" (and by coaching, I mean yelling) at the team. Sandy was in the kitchenette in the locker room, screwing the lid on a pill bottle. She put it in a cabinet, closed it, and took the pills in a cup out to the arena.  
"Oy! Barto!" Sandy shouted onto the ice and waved Nick over. "Over here."  
"Thanks a lot Sandy." Nick said. He removed his mouth guard and put it in Sandy's waiting hand. "I always forget to take these." He dumped the pills into his gloved hand, looked up, and tossed the pills in his mouth as if they were pieces of popcorn.  
"Well, we don't want a repeat of February." Sandy said. "My Maxy won't be here to save your ass tonight." She wiped her hand on Nick's jersey after he took his mouth guard and she left the ice. Once she exited, she turned and shouted.  
"And wear your fucking helmet! You know were playing your rival today. Do you have any idea how much you cost? And they don't care if roughing is a penalty!"

Watching from the bleeders, Maxwell felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. He pulled it up to see the text message from Spike.

_"Now."_

* * *

"Maxwell? How did you get past security?"

Maxwell turned to see Penelope carrying a pink duffel bag and pom poms. She had arrived early to warm up with the rest of the Air Guitar Dancers.

"When Sandy said she'd get you a job here, I had no idea." Maxwell said, eying her punk rock costume. "Anyway, I got to get to the dancer locker room pretty quick. I assume your headed there?"

Maxwell was halfway through dialing Spike's cell phone when Penelope found him. He had gotten himself lost and passed the same points several times.

"Oh, no worries. The locker room is on the other side of the building. It's easy to get lost. It's a round building, so there's no corners." Penelope told him. "Anyway, I'll take you there, but I gotta run afterward. I'm just dropping off my bag before I head to the practice room."

As they walked, Maxwell explained the goal, and Penelope thought it was adorable.

"Ya know, I think I can help with this. It's going to happen at the last few notes of the song, right?"

"Yup." Maxwell said, still glancing at doors as they passed. "That's right."

"It's not much, but I know how to help out a bit." Penelope said. The look on her face said she had a sneaky idea. "But first...oh my god. We need to grunge you down. Come on, the other dancers can help."

* * *

"Were three minutes ahead of schedule. Everyone sync." Sandy pulled out her palm pilot and began tapping to sync the clock.

"Sync." Sandy recognized Trista, the dancers coach's voice.

"Sync." And the surfacing crew.

"Sync." And the media crew.

Sandy clicked the send button on her walkie talkie. "Sync."

"Thanks everyone." Venue Security.

A minute passed in silence

Sandy clicked the send button."Sands to rock shop, I'm gonna go ahead and queue the Air Guitar in the hallway." She released the button and turned, walking to the locker room. The walkie talkie buzzed again.  
"Roger Sands. Trista, the Air Guitar Dancers ready to go?."  
"Yes. Dancers are queued in the hallway and ready to dance."  
Sandy, remembering she's supposed to escort the mascot at the resurfacing period, clicked the send button.  
"Air Guitar Rocker on schedule?" She released the button and a loud beep sounded.

Hearing her voice on Trista's walkie talkie, Maxwell's breath hitched. Trista, who had no idea about his goal, rolled her eyes. "Yeah, I have him. He'll be ready ten minutes before go. I'll call to confirm." Maxwell gulped. That left about 40 minutes. There was a very final feeling to everything that was happening.

"Don't be nervous." Penelope had snuck away from her team. "She'll be surprised. And I already send Pashmina a text message, saying to grab a camera before she gets to will call. She's got ice side seats." Maxwell visibly tensed. "Don't worry! I told her it was because I wanted her to film me, so she won't blow it for you."

"Whew. Thank you." Maxwell said. Penelope rubbed his shoulders a bit.

"Don't be nervous. She'll love it." Maxwell turned his head back to look at her.

"I'm not worried about the proposal at all. It'll be a snap. What I'm worried about is Pashmina's tape ending up on the internet." Penelope laughed.

* * *

At 6:59, the last of the crowd was getting seated. The ice was clear and surfaced, some rock music was playing, Spike was in the box with his legal pad and a white board, and Sandy was behind the closed hallway door, looking at her walkie talkie for the signal to open the doors.  
There was some static, a loud beep, and then a voice."Opening music ready. Dimming house lights now. Cue spotlight." Then static. "Commentary, go!" Then another voice.  
"Let 'em in, Sands."

Sandy ripped the door open quickly, snuck behind it, and held it open. From the arena, it would have appeared to open itself. The deep bass voice of the commentator flowed into the arena.

"Laaaaaaaadies and gentlemen, heeeeeeeeeeeeere's the Aaaaaaair Guitar!"

Bright colored lights and loud music made an leapt to life as the Air Guitar players sped onto the ice and fans cheered. Sandy counted the players as they passed her, closed the door once they were all through, and pulled out her walkie talkie. "Trista, the singer ready to go?"

"You got it Sands. She'll meet you at the door." At this point, Maxwell was in the empty dancer locker room, sitting on his hands so he didn't bite his nails.

Sandy buttoned up her blazer to hide her white shirt and waited at the hallway doors for the Anthem Singer.

Being the escort meant anyone who entered the ice without skates had Sandy with them to avoid injuries. Buttoning her jacket hid her white shirt so that when the spotlight was on the national anthem singer, she would be out of the spotlight, but still nearby, and invisible to fans in the arena. This was the same protocol for escorting the mascot. Since the mascot was a new hire, she was expecting him to fall or slip. The new ones always did. The walkie talkie buzzed again.

"Air Guitar Dancers entering the box now."

Penelope and the rest of the dancers rushed into the box in their rock themed outfits, jumping, playing Air Guitar, and head banging as they jumped on their small enclosed stage. Like the rest of the arena, it was enclosed by plexiglass to protect from stray pucks. The crowd was cheering for them...or maybe for their sexy punk rock outfits. Every girl wore something different, but still coordinated. Penelope tossed a gym bag beside the stairs leading up to the stage and kicked it out of sight, and ran on the stage after her team.

The walkie talkie buzzed. "Open the doors for the other team now."

On the right side of the arena, the visiting team wasn't given a welcome nearly as exciting or warm as the Air Guitar. The house lights were already up, the music was still intended for the Air Guitar, and no announcement. The Hairy Clams entered the ice and began to practice on their half of the ice. The fans didn't care. Seriously, the Hairy Clams? It described their players personality, too. All the players had really sour rebellious personalities, and never really cared about any penalties they incurred.

And of course, everyone called on their walkie talkies at the same time.

"Jumbo tron dude, do some generic time fillers, would ya?"

"Sands, could you go wake up the referee's? And grab Spike, too. He escaped for more coffee."

"All lower level staffers, set your handsets to vibe in one minute!"

"The Zamboni needs more fuel. Standby."

Before Sandy even realized it, the national anthem was over. She was dialing the referee on her cell phone as she walked to the locker room during the anthems. The players, who were standing in a line, broke for the player box. They all hoisted themselves over the wall and onto the bench. Sandy returned to the box and handed Spike a tall cup of coffee.

"Your not allowed to leave. You have coaching to do." Sandy said as Spike took a sip from it. "Just text for more coffee, you know the rules."

"Would the starters get the FUCK OUT THERE, PLEASE!" Spike yelled. Nick and four others jumped the wall start the game. 'Good.' Sandy thought. 'He's aggressive. We always win when he coaches aggressively.'

After 12 minutes of play, the score was still tied at zero. Sandy had downed her second cup of coffee and Spike, his fourth. 'Poor guy must have crazy sleep apnea.' Sandy thought to herself. She was thinking about it more when the buzzer sounded.

"Your not gonna leave to get more coffee while I'm gone, _are you_?" Sandy said to Spike, stressing the last bit. "Cause when I return from escorting the mascot, I'll bring some more."

Spike sighed heavy. "No... no, I won't move. After all, I'm only the head coach, that's all." He held his coffee cup for her, and she took it in one hand as she left, holding her walkie talkie with the other.

"Two minutes until show, people." It was the media director on the walkie talkie. 'Shit.' Sandy thought to herself. She broke into the best run she could for being on skates.

* * *

As Maxwell walked down the wet rubber hallway floor closer to the ice, he got a little nervous. 'Of course.' he reasoned with himself. He was going to propose to Sandy. While she was at her job in front of thousands of people and TV cameras and he was dressed like a delinquent. The acid wash black jeans had artful rips and the fabric was fringing. The leather boots had random studs and bits of duct tape on them. The bottom, fortunately, was studded to lessen the chance of him falling. He wore a white shirt under a studded leather vest with one sleeve. On his exposed arm, he had a temporary tattoo of a skull on fire. And to finish it off, a long brown hair wig and a grey beanie. The hair was combed forward in his eyes and gel was added to make it look dirty. 'Fuck' he thought to himself. With every step, he was biting his lip and summoning more and more courage. 'Okay, remember the stage fright course in school? Don't focus on the crowd focusing on you. Focus on the task of the dance routine. I'll be fine.' As he walked down the hallway, employees for the venue were brushing his hair more into his face and adjusting his costume. He was stopped so a hollow electric guitar could be strapped to his back. And finally, at the very end of the hallway, before the pathway to the ice, was Sandy, leaning against the door in her suit, bluetooth headset on her ear. Time seemed to slow down as Maxwell realized that there was no going back now. She didn't acknowledge him as she grabbed Maxwell's arm. She looked right into his eyes, still talking on the walkie talkie, and she didn't catch on.

"I got him." It looked like she said it to no one, but Maxwell knew she said it for the bluetooth headset to pick up. "Mute my channel and hit lights." In a very quick fade, the whole of the arena went dark, except for a spotlight center ice. She opened and held the door, ushered him through, and walked onto the ice behind him.

Sandy walked him out to the spotlight, but stayed out of it herself, then let go of his arm. He was a bit nervous, but sighed heavy, closed his eyes, and threw his arms into the air and his head back. The crowd went wild, and Maxwell felt a little more confident knowing all the yelling that appeared to be from the mascot was from the sound booth. Besides, if he didn't do it now, Sandy would yell at him and the secret would be out.

'Don't focus on the crowd focusing on you, and you'll be fine.' Maxwell kept telling himself.

"Go music" Sandy said into the headset.

As the loud rock music played, Maxwell began the head banging arm waving routine. It wasn't a very hard routine at all. Maybe thats why he wasn't as nervous as he thought he would be. The music was loud, most of the fans were paying attention to the jumbo-tron, which was showing footage of attention deprived fans in the crowd.

Spike called the sound booth on Sandy's walkie talkie. "Trust me on this. When you bring up the house lights, enable her headset again, enable his headset, and get the cameras pointed at both. No, really. Just trust me on this one." Then he waved for Nick to lean over so they could speak.

"Begin fade up." Sandy said into the headset. Then it all happened really fast.

The lights around the arena started to light again, returning to about half their luminosity. The wonky guitar solo was finished on a high note with fans in the arena cheering. The high note was the cue! Maxwell got a few steps of a running start, dropped to his knees, posing like a rocker as he hit his knees and perfected a power slide towards Sandy and ripped the guitar off his back, holding it properly. Being on ice, the momentum and speed were amazing. The ring was safely secured to a screw on the guitar where the player would tighten the string. The house lights had returned to full power. A quiet beeping from his Maxwell's back pocket, indicating the microphone was enabled. Sandy heard it and immediately covered her mouth so the microphone didn't pick up her breathing. As the momentum of the slide slowed, Maxwell stopped in front of her. Sandy couldn't even react to being vulnerable on the ice when Maxwell ripped off the wig and the beanie, threw it into the goal, and dropped the body of the guitar. Her eyes slowly got big as she realized who the mascot was. Maxwell got up, holding the guitar by the neck, the ring tucked into his palm.

"Maxwell?" She said, a surprised squeak in her voice. Her eyes got wider and she looked around when her voice echoed through the arena. Her microphone was enabled.

Maxwell was thrilled it had got this far but...shit. This is the part he never rehearsed or even thought about. So, he put it simply.

"Marry me!" Still leaning on the guitar, he opened his hand so she could see the silver ring.

The audience screamed as if the place was on fire. Sandy looked over at the Air Guitar Dancers, whose voices really stuck out. They had a large hand-painted banner that read "say yes." Penelope screamed right along with the audience. Maxwell figured the banner was all Penelope's doing. In the player box, Spike was in hysterics at the look on Sandy's face and was taking pictures on his cell phone. In her comfy ice side seat, Pashmina was recording with her video camera and had zoomed in to see the look on Sandy's face.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, the mascot has just asked assistant coach Sandy Torohamu to marry him! I can't make this stuff up!"

Despite her red face, Sandy gave a happy yell and threw her arms around his neck. No one thought it was possible for the crowds cheers to get louder, but apparently it was.

"Yes! Oh my god, yes!" She cried. "Oh my god, I can't believe you did all that just to embarrass me!" She laughed, still nearly choking him. He put an arm tight around her waist, the other still holding the guitar, laughing at her reaction.

Then, Sandy yelped again as the Air Guitar flooded the ice, threw both Sandy and Maxwell in the air, and carried them off the ice. The deep voice of the announcer echoed throughout the arena once again.

"Looks like a yes, folks! And what a creative way to go, with the bride to be a staff member. The lucky man, as some of you might recognize, is a good friend of Nick Barto after he saved the day with CPR."

The team set them down in the hallway, where staffers from all over the arena had gathered to applaud them. Spike and Maxwell snuck in a quick high five as they passed each other. Sandy was hiding her head, smiling like a drunk, red in the face, but she looked up when, at the end of the hallway, she recognized someone.

"Stan! How'd you get in here! Pashmina, you too?" She ran right over to them, the whole time, her fingertips holding on to Maxwell's as he was being congratulated and high-fived by some of the Air Guitar players.

"Hey, just cause you won't get me VIP tickets doesn't mean Penelope won't!" Stan said, looking guilty. "They like being stalked! It's a compliment!" Pashmina sighed and punched him in the shoulder.

"Forget him. Look!" She held up and pointed to the video camera. "Oh gosh, what Maxwell did was adorable, and the look on your face was sooo funny!" Penelope stood right beside her, nodding and smiling. Maxwell turned to them.

"Great!" Sandy said, beaming. "Can you put that online so I can send some copies out?" Maxwell whimpered, but only Stan noticed. Then they noticed Spike, who had pushed his way through the thinning crowd.

"Hey Sandy, why don't you go ahead and leave early tonight. The real escort is with the resurfacing crew, and he says the whole crew is sorry they couldn't be here to congratulate you, but they have to resurface. I'll get him to be my bitch tonight."

"Thanks Spike."Sandy said to him. She took off her headset and handed it to him. "That means a lot to me. I left your coffee cup in the locker room, next to the carafe. By the way, we'll have to talk about some changes to my contract tomorrow." She beamed as she said it, Maxwell laughed, happily. They'd need to change her tax documents, and her last name.

The whole drive home, Sandy and Maxwell giggled about everything. How he completely fooled Sandy, how he was never doing anything like that ever again, how Penelope saved the whole thing, and how he didn't want the video to end up being available for download. Of course, they were both very giddy when they got home...

* * *

Authors notes:

Mostly hockey babble, I know.

By the way, anyone know how to make the document editor acknowledge tab? Or how to fix spacing? Or better yet, just post the rules of dialogue, and whether there's even enough readership to bother to continue.

If I have to write a terrible fic just to get people to write better ones out of spite, I'll go there.


End file.
